Spiritual Things Matter

So live that your memories will be part of your happiness. ~unknown

One of my fondest memories from my orphanage days was the start of our summer vacation, after the school year would end in August. The orphanage had been given a large cabin in Buching, Germany, that had been built during WW II and was located in the beautiful Bavarian Alps. Since the cabin was originally intended to serve as a temporary shelter to those who were fleeing for their lives, after the war it had no purpose, so it was given to be to be used as a home for our summer vacations. Each group (which usually consisted of 15-18 children) would be allotted a two week time period and usually two groups would go at the same time since summer vacation was six weeks and there were six different groups in our orphanage. This system allowed the children to be with others from a different group who normally did not share the same living quarters. Buching was approximately 100 km away from Hochzoll, Augsburg where our orphanage was located. Since Buching was only about a 1 1/2 - 2 hours drive, we were allowed on one fabulous trip, to even ride our bicycles to our cabin in the Alps. I can remember how excited we were as we looked forward to a more rugged and rustic life - if even for just a couple of weeks.

The Cabin itself always had a certain distinctive odor to it which I only appreciated in that particular setting. It was the smell of old wood and uninhabited space which matched its primitive appearance. Several social workers would go ahead of us to get the cabin ready for our arrival. As I recall, one of the cooks from the orphanage would come along with the group and prepare the meals for all the kids. By the time we would get there, the eating room was arranged in its usual setting. There was a long, old wood table with its fork and knife markings readily visible from prior years, along with plenty of chairs on both sides. Located towards the back of the cabin, were the many bedrooms and bathrooms. Each child was allowed to pick which bedroom they wanted and also choose with whom they were going to share. For the younger children, however, that choice was made by the social workers. Almost all the bedrooms had bunk-beds and, like most children, I always enjoyed sleeping on the top. We would often switch around so by the end of summer vacation, everyone would have a chance at the top bunk. The bathrooms were small but there were a number of them, since, as you can imagine, those fleeing from the war needed more than just one or two bathrooms.

The social workers did a great job planning for the two weeks and I can remember that we had many different and lively adventures. Often, we would fill our backpacks with sandwiches and apples, and spend an entire day, just hiking in the mountains. The smaller children would stay behind with a social worker, who would keep them occupied with age-appropriate activities. Those children, who were able to hike an entire day, could look forward to many exciting adventures and wonderful scenery ahead. Once, we even went on a hike at night and this was particularly exciting for us. Simone, who was my favorite social worker (see “The Laughter Of Simone“) invited her boyfriend, Heiner, to come along and join in the fun. We all so enjoyed harassing Heiner and picking on him - and Heiner seemed to have as much fun with it as we did. It was a sad day for us when Simone an Heiner eventually married and she left her work at the orphanage. Today, though, I am happy to say that we are all in close contact again after so many years apart. Both of them are a delight and as much a gift in my life now as they were back then.

It was always fun when our journey took us through the little towns and villages where the farmers and towns-people would wave as they saw a whole group of children going down the street. On occasion we would see a tractor coming from or going into the field, dogs barking as we would walk passed their farm house, and cats sitting leisurely in their yards. Often other little children, dressed in dirndl and lederhosen, would watch us with curiosity. I am sure they were wondering who we were and where we came from.

My favorite places to stop were always those where we could walk far enough up the mountains to where we could look down into the valley below. It was lovely to see the quaint little towns, each with their own small church encased in the various shades of green and earth-tone mountains. Often one could hear the church bell ring in the distance and a feeling of complete connectedness, peace, and joy would settle in my heart as nothing else could do. I still cherish those moments as they become alive in my memory. There is just nothing like a good hike and then sitting down at noontime to enjoy a sandwich, along with a good crisp apple.The girls would often make “flower crowns” as we sat in the meadow during our break. Also often we would pick a blade of grass, put it between our thumbs and make what we called “grass music.” My own children today find that fascinating. Each year we would visit some of the castles nearby and fortunately for us, in those days, the tourism did not take over the experience. We were able to really soak in the magic and imagine what it was like for a person, or the king himself, living in those days of yesteryear. Those times were beautiful and majestic in so many ways. I particularly loved the crystal clear lakes that surrounded the castles. When you find a spot where you can see the castles and the lakes from a far-away view, it is truly like stepping into a fairy-tale land. One could get lost in its beauty and forget that a different life even exists.

After a long hike, we would often go swimming in a lake nearby. I especially remember a particular little brook with a small body of water that we made certain to visit each year. It was a favorite spot with the children because the water was so clear and incredibly cold that it became a “dare you” game as to who would be willing to jump in first. My fingers and toes easily become snow white when I am cold and just putting my feet and hands into the water seemed to have been enough for me.

Each year we would go, at least once or twice, on a “scavenger hunt” in the forest. I remembered the stories of “Rotkäpchen” - “The Little Red Riding Hood” and “Hänsel und Gretel.” As much as I loved these games though, I always found myself looking over my shoulders…even after I was old enough not to believe in such fairy tales. Walking through the thick, dark forest and being able to hear each crack of a branch, made me aware that the silence was greater than the noise we children would make. I always made sure to stay close to the other children but I would never allow them to know that I was secretly afraid…but perhaps they were afraid as well.

After our evening meal, we often would sit outside after dark, in front of a big open fire, roasting marshmallows and singing our songs. One or two of the social workers would always have a guitar and I cherished those moments of togetherness. The warmth of the fire seemed comforting to me and being cuddled up with the other children during those moments created a special bond of togetherness. There was a calm and a peace on those nights, without any rivalry and competitions of of any sort. The social workers too seemed more relaxed since there was no need for so much strictness and order. They also enjoyed visiting with the other social workers who came along from the other group. They would all sit outside on the porch, talking and staying up long after the children went to bed. We, of course, would often sneak out of our bedrooms to see what all the laughing and carrying on was all about!

Those memories of Buching, the beautiful Alps, the quiet and dark forest, the many wonderful hikes and the beauty of that corner of the world, will stay with me forever. I am very thankful for those memories which bring such fondness and happiness to my heart.